


In Your Arms

by xxCat1989xx



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Fluff, M/M, One Shot, sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 00:02:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9572798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxCat1989xx/pseuds/xxCat1989xx
Summary: Scott is drunk. Mitch just wants to sleep.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii. Sorry. I'm posting loads because I have lots of ideas and am having a very productive time of it lately. :D
> 
> This fic was the first one I started but could never finish it. I feel free now I have.
> 
> This has had the seal of approval from Joce if the capslock response I got was anything to go by. 
> 
> Cat x

It has been such a long day. In between an early shoot, a million interviews and a full show, needless to say, Mitch is a tired girl. His eyes are scratchy and his throat is sore and he really, _really_ wants his bed. They have the following day off – no travel, no shows, no talking – so he has plans to do nothing except eat, sleep and relax. It sounds like heaven to his weary body.

Making it to the room, Mitch pushes his key card into the slot and groans when it flashes red. He tries again and again and again. Close to tears he drops his head against the wooden door in front of him, almost screaming in frustration, and takes a couple of deep breaths to calm himself.

“Get it together, sis,” he mumbles, pushing himself off the surface. Slowly he tries the card again and cheers half-heartedly when it clicks, flashing green, allowing him entry to the room beyond.

He pushes his body over the threshold, having to grab the wall to balance himself in his exhaustion and barely makes it to the closest bed before collapsing on top of the blankets. Mitch takes enough time to note that he really needs to get undressed, brush his teeth and text Scott to let him know he’s made it, but sleep takes over before he can finish the thought.

\--

The bang of a door closing followed by ‘shit, sorry’ wakes him up some time later. He grunts weakly in response and rolls over on the bed, hoping Scott won’t make any more noise so he can go back to sleep. He listens as a phone chimes as it is plugged in to charge and shoes are slipped off, dropping to the floor almost silently.

Feet shuffle away from him and he hears as Scott unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans. Every single noise is like a gun-shot to his exhausted mind that it doesn’t matter how much he tries to ignore it - he can feel sleep slipping further and further away from him.

When Scott knocks over the chair in front of the dressing table, Mitch puts sleep down to a lost cause, knowing there is no way a drunk Scott will be able to get himself into bed without help, and drags his body into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He rubs his tired, puffy eyes before looking up at his best friend.

A giggle escapes from his mouth, waking his mind up instantly, when he sees Scott attempting to take a button-up shirt off over his head without undoing any of the buttons. He seriously thinks about leaving him to struggle for a while longer as payback for waking him up, but when Scott says “Mitchy, help me” from under the folds of fabric, Mitch takes pity and stands up unsteadily from the bed.

“Stop, stop, you’re making it worse,” Mitch giggles softly, reaching up on his tiptoes to pull the shirt back down to start again.

When Scott’s face appears, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are bloodshot but the smile on his face is blinding. Mitch will never get over how happy his best friend always is to see him, even if they have only been apart for an hour. He smiles brightly in response, watching as a blush creeps up Scott’s neck.

“My Mitchy, my hero,” he crows. He lifts his hands up and cups Mitch’s face, placing a kiss on Mitch’s cheek that almost makes him swoon.

They have a weird relationship; he can admit that. They are best friends, always have been, and always will be, despite plenty of people thinking there is more between them. He remembers when Scomiche became a thing and instead of laughing it off, they played up to it until people couldn’t tell the difference between friendship or something more. They love it. They love the fan art and the fanfiction (though some could make him downright uncomfortable) that it inspires. The fans eat up every interaction between them.

But friends is all they are. Best friends. The sort of friends who think nothing about cuddling in the same bed when one needs comfort, or just because they want to be close to each other; or kissing foreheads, cheeks, hands (and lips when they are drunk), grinding up against each other in clubs because they know it’s safe to, that nothing will come of it. Ex-boyfriends had commented on how close they were and ‘maybe you shouldn’t spend so much time with Scott or people will get the wrong idea’ (they were always dumped not long after). Friends joked that they should ‘just have sex already’, but they both know they won’t and the jokes died off after a while. Scott and Mitch know what they are, even if no one else can understand.

Scott is his other half, the yin to his yang, his soulmate, but only a friend, even if sometimes Mitch has wondered what would happen if they crossed that line.

“What are you thinking about?” Scott asks, bringing Mitch back to the present. His hands are still cupping Mitch’s face, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into his skin. He can’t help but nuzzle into the touch, loving Scott’s hands on him whether it’s his face or waist, holding his hand or rubbing his back.

He shrugs his shoulders and Scott takes it as his cue to move his hands, dropping his arms to his side, smile never leaving his handsome face, though curiosity sparkles in his eyes.

“Nothing, boo. Come on, let’s get you into bed.”

Mitch reaches up and starts to unbutton Scott’s shirt for him, revealing silky smooth skin that in his vulnerable state he wants to kiss and feel if it was a soft as it looks. He soon shakes that thought from his head, putting it down to a muddled brain and lack of sleep. Peeking up at his friend, he sees Scott’s head is dropped back like he’s going to pass out on the spot.

He makes it to the bottom of the shirt and lets Scott shrug it from his shoulders. Mitch takes it from him and folds it up, placing it on the second bed that he knows isn’t going to be used that night.

“Think you can cope with your jeans and socks, or do you need me to hold your hand for that too?” Mitch quips, turning from his friend and making his way to the bathroom. He really needs to brush the fuzz from his teeth and wash his face.

When he’s finished he leaves the bathroom, turning the light off behind him and smiles when he sees Scott in the bed he’s just climbed out of, tucked under the covers, snoring lightly and taking up so much space that Mitch isn’t entirely sure he’ll fit next to him. Stripping his clothes off on his way to the other bed, he contemplates moving all the stuff off it but jumps when a hand grabs his wrist.

“With me?” Scott asks, eyes still closed.

“Move over then, big boy.”

“No, here.” Scott opens his arms. Mitch rolls his eyes.

“I will squish you.”

Scott laughs loudly. “Mitchy, you weigh about a pound. Get here. Cold, tired, sleep now.”

“Oh, fine. If I smother you in your sleep, you have no one to blame but yourself.”

Mitch crawls onto the bed and gently lies on top of Scott, legs in-between Scott’s open ones, tucking his head into Scott’s neck and pulling the blanket over the both of them. Scott’s arms come up around him, holding him securely in his strong embrace. He groans when Mitch places a soft kiss to his bare shoulder and snuggles further into the hold. Both fall asleep almost immediately, happy being back together after only a few hours apart.

\--

The light of the following day creeps into the room, slowly bringing Mitch out of his deep sleep. He snuggles further into the warmth of Scott’s body, arms still around him from when they’d fallen asleep. He loves waking up like this; Scott clinging to him like a 6-foot-something koala bear. The sweat is sliding on his back under where Scott’s arms are holding him but he can’t bring himself to care at that very moment. He’s determined to fall back to sleep for another few hours.

Wriggling slightly, he startles when Scott says, “Please stop moving or I might vomit on you.” His voice is raspy and hoarse and so deep when he’s waking up. It sets off butterflies in his stomach when it’s the first thing Mitch gets to hear every day.

“Shouldn’t have drunk so much then if your tiny body can’t handle it, Samantha,” he whispers in response.

Outside the room the world is turning but Mitch wants to savour the quiet inside it.

Gently, Scott manoeuvres them onto their sides, still pushed up close together, legs entwined. Mitch loves that Scott can just pick him up and put him into any position he wants when they are cuddling.

They both settle back down; Scott’s breathing evening out as sleep pulls him back into the unconscious world, but Mitch isn’t tired anymore. However, the last thing he wants to do is get out of bed so he settles for studying his best friend’s face as he sleeps.

Reaching up a hand, he traces the shell of Scott’s ear, moving across his forehead and down the path of his nose, giggling when Scott scrunches his nose up at the feather-light touch. Slowly his fingers make their way across his cheeks and end up at his lips, skimming the surface with the tip of his index finger.

What would happen if he just leaned forward and closed the gap between them?

Would Scott push him away? Would he pull him even closer? Would it ruin what they have?

He has no idea and nor an inkling to find out. The last thing he wants to do is mess up one of the most important relationships in his life. He can’t live without Scott. Nor can Scott live without him.

If they have to be away from each other for a length of time, Mitch feels lost. He counts down the minutes until they are reunited so being apart is normally only done as a necessity. If they can go with each other, they do.

People have gotten so used to seeing them together that they only invite one of them now because they know both will turn up, unless Mitch really doesn’t want to. Sometimes the sugary-sweetness of their friendship makes even him want to be sick.

When Mitch pulls himself out of his thoughts and refocuses back on Scott it’s to find his friend’s eyes open and looking at him questioningly. Blue eyes blink sleepily at him, sleep crusted in the corners and the whites still bloodshot from alcohol and only a few hours’ sleep. He watches as Scott’s eyes drop down to his own lips and flutter.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Mitch says quietly, trying not to disturb the stillness of the room.

“Morning, baby. ‘times it?” Scott whispers in reply, eyes drifting closed again, although he blinks them back awake quickly.

Mitch reaches back to the bedside table to grab his phone and squints at the screen. “Almost 8.”

“Ugh,” Scott groans, finally releasing Mitch from his arms and rolling onto his back. He flings his free arm across his eyes; the other still trapped under Mitch and running up and down Mitch’s back so softly that Mitch wants to purr. “Too early. Why are you awake?”

Propping himself up on his elbow and balancing his head on his hand, Mitch reaches over and rubs Scott’s bare stomach subconsciously, feeling the toned muscles fluttering under his caresses. Scott smiles and lowers his arm from his eyes, turning his head to face him and winks.

Realising that he is effectively feeling up his best friend, Mitch pulls his hand back like he’s been burned and rubs his eyes to cover his embarrassment.

“Oh, that felt nice. I feel so sick,” Scott whines, “Do we have any painkillers and coffee?”

“Hmm,” Mitch responds, “Yes to the painkillers. They’re in my purse. Not sure to the coffee.”

Rolling to the edge of the bed and sitting up, Mitch stretches his arms above his head, groaning at how good it feels. Scott chuckles behind him and rolls towards him. He wraps his arm around Mitch’s waist and nuzzles into his bare side, placing a delicate kiss to his hip.

“Stttoooppp, that tickles,” Mitch scolds his friend, smacking him lightly on his arm. He stands up and walks over to his bags, grabbing the painkillers and a bottle of water out the mini-bar. He passes them to Scott and stands at the side of the bed as he swallows a couple of tablets and drinks half the bottle before giving it back to Mitch.

“Thanks, Michelle. What’s the plan for today?” Scott asks. He pulls the blankets back to his chest as he leans against the headboard. He reaches his arm up over his head. Like this he wouldn’t be out of place as a model. Scott yawns and winces, rubbing the side of his head.

“Nothing. Head hurt?”

“I feel like someone has taken a hammer to it.”

“Ohhh, daddy, want me to kiss it better?” Mitch jests but isn’t surprised when Scott leans towards to him. He grabs the side of his face and plants a big, smacking kiss to the side of the blonde’s head. “Better?”

“Not really. It’s the thought that counts though. Maybe we could have a quiet day today?” he’s asked, already starting to nod in agreement.

“Movie and cuddle day? We’re not leaving until tomorrow.”

Mitch grabs his phone off the side, checking his notifications, and makes his way to the bathroom. He flicks the shower on, waiting until it gets to the right temperature before going back into the main room. A laugh escapes when he looks at Scott, who has put the cold side of the pillow across his face.

“Do you really feel that bad?” Mitch asks in concern. Scott never complains about being sick. Mitch, on the other hand, constantly needs taking care of when he is ill and has no qualms about letting everyone know. He leans against the door frame and rubs the goose bumps on his skinny arms. It is significantly cooler in the room without Scott being his own personal heater.

Scott pulls the pillow away from his face and rubs his eyes, squinting at the bright sunlight coming through the window. He sits up on the edge and stretches his long, muscular legs out in front of him.

“Honestly, no I don’t. Just feeling sorry for myself. Nothing a shower and some food won’t fix. Go get that sexy butt in the shower while I order room service for breakfast. Eggs okay?”

“You wish you could have this,” Mitch turns on his heel, sticking his rear out at Scott, who laughs loudly (he can picture Scott’s scrunched up eyes and hand covering his mouth as he laughs). “Eggs are fine,” he calls over his shoulder, shutting the door behind him.

An hour later, after both have showered and eaten, they curl back up in bed sitting against the headboard, blankets draped across their laps and legs entwined. They had agreed to a SpongeBob marathon, mostly because it wouldn’t take a lot of concentrating to watch so most of Mitch’s attention could be on the person in his arms. Scott has pillowed his head on Mitch’s shoulder, tucked up under his arm, soft blonde hair tickling his neck every time he moves.

It isn’t long before soft snuffles emerge from Scott’s nose as he drops to sleep. Mitch leans down and presses a kiss to his head. Scott snuggles further into his arms and moans “Mitchy” sleepily, smacking his lips together and settling back down.

Ten minutes later, Mitch lets sleep pull him under too.

**Author's Note:**

> Social media links in bio.


End file.
